Panzer Leader [Illustrated Edition]

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Text originally published in 1952 under the same title.

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GENERAL HEINZ GUDERIAN

PANZER LEADER

Foreword by

CAPTAIN B. H. LIDDELL HART

Translated from the German by

CONSTANTINE FITZGIBBON

FOREWORD

by

CAPTAIN B. H. LIDDELL HART

In this book a man who has made history—on a great scale—gives us his own story of how he shaped it by means of a new idea, and how it led to an end he had not foreseen. Guderian had a tremendous impact on the course of events in our time. Without him, it is probable that Hitler would have met early frustration in his offensive efforts when he embarked on war. For in 1939-40 Germany’s forces in general were not sufficient to overcome any major Power. Her opening run of victory in the Second World War was only made possible by the panzer forces that Guderian had created and trained, and by his audacious leading of those forces in disregard of his superiors’ caution as well as Hitler’s fears. Guderian’s break-through at Sedan and lightning drive to the Channel coast virtually decided the issue of the Battle of France.

A year later, the drive he led into the East came close to producing the complete collapse of Russia’s armies, but this time renewed hesitancy on top imposed a delay that spun out the campaign until winter intervened, and gave the Russians a breathing-space for recovery. Stalin was able to raise fresh armies and develop new arms factories to replace those that had been captured. Russia’s strength went on increasing, while Germany was never again as strong as in that first campaign. Hitler’s 1942 effort, though dangerous, was a more limited one than in the previous year. After the failure at Stalingrad the decline of the Germans’ power became manifest to all, while America’s entry into the war definitely ensured their downfall.

Thus the victories that Guderian had made possible proved more fatal than if no victory had been gained. Early blossom turned into bitter fruit.

He himself had an early foretaste of its juice, since at the end of 1941 he was dismissed for taking a timely step-back instead of pandering to Hitler’s illusions. He was recalled to service only when Germany’s situation had become desperate, and was eventually made Chief of the General Staff when it had become hopeless. So he was doomed to swallow the full bitterness of the dregs.

That retributive sequel to his work, however, does not affect his historical significance-in the moulding of history by the application of a new idea, of which he was both the exponent and executant. The conquest of the West did not last, but it changed the shape of Europe and has profoundly affected the future of the whole world. That is clear, although we cannot yet tell what will emerge.

Guderian’s book is also of great interest as a self-exposition of the specialist mind and how it works. He had far more imagination than most specialists, but it was exercised almost entirely within the bounds of his professional subject, and burning enthusiasm increased the intensity of his concentration.

Guderian was a single-minded soldier, professional in the truest sense-the quintessence of the craftsman in the way he devoted himself to the progress of a technique. In that pursuit he showed as little regard for careerist ambition, and the tact which it requires, as for the purpose such technical progress might serve. To understand him one must be capable of understanding the passion of pure craftsmanship. There one can find a natural explanation of his attitude to Hitler-clearly more favourable than that of most of the generals brought up in the old tradition. Hitler manifested a liking for new military ideas, and for the tank idea in particular, so Guderian was naturally disposed to like him. Hitler showed an inclination to back that revolutionary idea, so Guderian was inclined to back him. Hitler was in conflict with the General Staff and with established conventions; so was Guderian in his sphere-and thus the more ready to think well of Hitler, until disillusioned by what he saw for himself when he eventually came into close contact with the Führer.

It will be apparent to those who read his memoirs that he did not question the cause which he and his troops were serving, or the duty of fighting for their country. It was sufficient for him that she was at war, and thus in danger, however it had come about. The fulfilment of duty was not compatible with doubts. As a dutiful soldier he had to assume that his country’s cause was just, and that she was defending herself against would-be conquerors. His evident assumptions on that score may jar on readers outside Germany-conscious of the menace that their countries had to meet, from Germany. But his assumptions are similar to those of most soldiers of any country at any time. Few qualms of conscience are to be found in the memoirs of those who exercised command in the wars for highly questionable causes that Britain and the U.S.A. waged in the nineteenth century. There is a markedly ‘Victorian’ flavour about Guderian’s turn of phrase and thought.

Moreover, soldiers everywhere are accustomed to accept the time-honoured dictum that ‘attack is the best defence, so that they become apt to regard the difference between attack and defence as a tactical distinction between two interchangeable forms of action, with little or no bearing on the question of aggression. The greatest experts in the field of international law have found it difficult to frame an irrefutable definition of aggression, and aggressively minded statesmen have always found it easy to shift the blame on to the shoulders of their foreign opponents. An appeal to patriotism can befog the clearest issue, and those who are most imbued with the sense of duty to country are, and are bound to be, the easiest to deceive and to silence. Soldiers are not trained to explore the truth behind international disputes, and if they try to wrestle with the resulting questions they are likely to become incapable of performing their task. There is a place, and a need, for the military philosopher in the study and guidance of war, but a profoundly reflective mind does not fit easily into the service itself.

As a practical necessity a commander in the field often has to take action without reflection, and, even when he has the time for it, a habit of reflecting on the remote consequences of the action ordered would tend to induce paralysis-save in a man with the most uncommon power of detachment (Wellington was one of these rare exceptions). So long as fighting services continue, it is essential for the performance of their task that they should be composed of those who confine their thinking to the effective execution of that task. ‘Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.’ No nation that maintains fighting services can afford to revoke that rule of experience. Where soldiers begin to question the rightness of the cause for which they are fighting, armies soon collapse.

It is easy to condemn Guderian’s attitude as evidence of ‘unrepentant militarism’-but wiser to recognise that his basic assumptions were a necessity of military service. That he makes no pretence of discarding them now, to court favour, is typical of his brusque honesty-which so often brought him in conflict with his superiors, and with Hitler-as well as of the pugnacity that made him such a dynamic military reformer and commander.

Anyone who is ‘put off’ Guderian’s memoirs by dislike of his attitude will be foolish-as were those superiors who let irritation prejudice them against the value of his military ideas. This book is the fullest, most factual, and most revealing personal account of the war from the German side that has yet emerged. The fullness of detail, which is valuable for the record, is lightened in the reading by the vigour and frankness of the comment.

Guderian’s revelations, in the opening chapters, about the opposition he met in developing the panzer forces and the blitzkrieg technique will come as a surprise to many readers here who have a picture of the German General Staff as a far-sighted and united body of planners ceaselessly seeking to get a march ahead in preparation for the next war. (What he reveals will be less unexpected to those who know the nature of armies and their halting course throughout history.)

His story of the 1940 campaign not only brings out the hazards and uncertainties of the assault on the Meuse near Sedan, but conveys the pace and tempo of the follow-up drive to the Channel coast. It is almost like having a seat in Guderian’s car in that breathless race, and being able to watch him handling his panzer divisions. For me it was like the repetition of a dream, as it was just the way that in pre-war years I had pictured such a force being handled by a leader who grasped the new idea-only to be told, then, that the picture was unrealistic. When Hobart gave a demonstration of it in the 1934 exercises on Salisbury Plain, orthodox soldiers retorted that such a method would not work in war.

Guderian’s account of the 1941 advance into Russia provides by far the most detailed account yet available of that invasion. If the detail tends to slow down the tempo, his revelations about the conflicts within the German Command are very illuminating, and his picture of the ghastly final stages of the winter push for Moscow in mud and snow is extraordinarily vivid. Then comes the story of his own dismissal, and recall in 1943 to reorganise the panzer forces after the Stalingrad disaster. In the later chapters he throws new light on the breakdown of the plans to meet the Allied landing in Normandy.

When the situation became desperate he was summoned to take over the post of Chief of the General Staff, a post which was by that time limited to dealing with the Eastern Front, and further restricted by Hitler’s desire to control everything himself. While these limitations of function left Guderian little scope for effective influence, his appointment gave him ample opportunity for close observation of Hitler’s mind and emotions during the last stage of the war. Nothing could be more dramatic than his sober account of the disintegration of a demented dictator and a demoralised entourage. Guderian completes the story with character-sketches of Hitler and the other ‘Leading Personalities of the Third Reich’-and that chapter is the most interesting of all.

The acuteness and balance of these character sketches is notable. Those qualities may owe much to a characteristic of his which does not often appear directly in the book, but which strikes anyone who meets him-his sense of humour. It is the more refreshing because it is uncommon in his circle.

Although Guderian could do little to check the downslide he had done enough earlier, when in a nominally lower position, to establish his military fame for all time. With men of action, the place they fill in history is usually determined by the extent to which they have shaped history. Guderian’s achievements-his effect on the Second World War, and on warfare-put him on the top level as a soldier. Although he never enjoyed the nominal qualification of independent command, he applied the idea of the independent use of armoured forces so fully and decisively that he brought about victories which, measured by any standard, have hardly been matched in the records of warfare.

It is clear, too, that he possessed most of the qualities that distinguished the ‘Great Captains’ of history-coup d’œil, a blend of acute observation with swift-sure intuition; the ability to create surprise and throw the opponent off balance; the speed of thought and action that allows the opponent no chance of recovery; the combination of strategic and tactical sense; the power to win the devotion of troops, and get the utmost out of them. It is not so clear, because of differing evidence, whether he had another of the classic qualities: a sense of what is possible. But Guderian had an amazing knack of making ‘the impossible’ possible.

Beyond these qualities Guderian had creative imagination-the basic characteristic of genius, in the military sphere as well as in others. Most of the recognised masters of the art of war have been content to use the familiar tools and technique of their time. Only a few set out to provide themselves with new means and methods. Developments in weapons have usually been due to some outside’ inventor, often a civilian. Developments in tactics have usually been due to some original military thinker and his gradually spreading influence on progressive-minded officers of the rising generation. Innovators have rarely had the chance to put into practice themselves the theories they have expounded. Guderian, however, was able to gain that opportunity. And as he coupled creative imagination with dynamic energy he was able to exploit the opportunity-with revolutionary results.

Chapter 1. BACKGROUND AND YOUTH

I first saw the light of day at Kulm on the Vistula, one Sunday morning, the 17th of June, 1888. My father, Friedrich Guderian, was at that time Senior Lieutenant in the 2nd Pomeranian Jäger Battalion: he had been born on the 3rd of August, 1858, at Gross-Klonia in the district of Tuchel. My mother, née Clara Kirchhoff, was born on the 26th of February, 1865, at Niemczyk in the district of Kulm. Both my grandfathers were landed gentry and, for so far back as I can trace my family, all my ancestors were either landowners or lawyers in the Warthegau or in East or West Prussia. My father was the only regular army officer to whom I was at all closely related.

On the 2nd of October, 1890, my brother Fritz was born.

In 1891 my father’s military duties took him to Colmar, in Alsace, and from the age of six, until his transfer to Saint-Avold in Lorraine in 1900, I attended school there. Saint-Avold, however, is too small to boast a high school of its own, so my parents had to send us away to boarding school. My father’s limited means, and the expressed wishes of both his sons to become officers, made him choose a cadet school for our further education. So my brother and I were sent to the Karlsruhe cadet school in Baden, on April 1st, 1901, where I remained until the 1st of April, 1903, on which date I was transferred to the chief cadet school at Gross-Lichterfelde, near Berlin, my brother following me thither two years later. In February of 1907 I took my final examinations, the Reifeprüfung. When I remember my instructors and teachers from these formative years it is with emotions of deep gratitude and respect. Our education in the cadet corps was of course one of military austerity and simplicity. But it was founded on kindness and justice. Our course of studies was based on that of the up-to-date civilian schools, the Realgymnasium, the main emphasis being on modern languages, mathematics and history. This provided a good preparation for life, and the standards reached by the cadets were in no way inferior to those of similar civilian institutions.

In February 1907 I was sent, as ensign-cadet, Fähnrich, to the 10th Hanoverian Jäger Battalion at Bitche in Lorraine, which my father commanded until December 1908. This was a stroke of good fortune, since I could now once again enjoy the pleasures of living in my parents’ home after my six years’ absence at the cadet schools. After attending the War School at Metz from April to December 1907 I was commissioned Second Lieutenant on the 27th of January, 1908, with seniority as of the 22nd of June, 1906. From then, until the beginning of the First World War, I lived the happy life of a junior officer. On October 1st, 1909, our Jäger Battalion was sent to its home district, the province of Hanover, and was employed on garrison duty at Goslar in the Harz mountains. It was there that I became engaged to Margarete Goerne, my dear wife. We were married on October 1st, 1913, and she has been a true helpmate to me ever since, sharing with me all the pleasures and the pains of a long, eventful, and by no means always easy military career.

Our newly found happiness was rudely interrupted by the outbreak of war on August the 2nd, 1914, and during the next four years it was only very occasionally that I managed to spend a short leave with my wife and our little family. On August 23rd, 1914, God gave us a son, Heinz Günter, and on the 17th of September, 1918, a second son, Kurt.

My dear father died at the beginning of the war as the result of a serious operation that he had had to undergo the previous May and that had necessitated his leaving the service as physically unfit. With his death I lost a man whom I regarded as a model of soldierly and human virtue. My mother survived him for over sixteen years. She departed this life in March of 1931 after a life filled with kindness and love.

When the armistice of 1918 was signed I participated in frontier defence in the East, first in Silesia and later in the Baltic States. At the end of this book will be found a detailed list of my various military appointments together with relevant facts concerning my personal life. From this it can be seen that my career up to 1922 alternated between regimental and staff duties, that I was by training an infantry man, but that an attachment to the 3rd Telegraph Battalion at Koblenz and an assignment involving work with radio during the early months of the First World War enabled me to acquire a certain knowledge of signal matters which was to stand me in good stead in the years to come when I was to be engaged in building up a new arm of the service.

Chapter 2. THE CREATION OF THE GERMAN ARMOURED FORCE

My main activity during the period between the two wars was connected with the creation of a German armoured force. Although originally a Jäger (light infantry) officer and without any technical training, I was destined to find myself deeply involved in the problem of motorisation.

After returning from the Baltic in the autumn of 1919, I was for a short time employed with the 10th Reichswehr Brigade at Hanover. In January of 1920 I was given command of a company in my old Jäger Battalion at Goslar. I had no thought at that time of returning to General Staff work, on which I had been engaged until January 1920; in the first place, my departure from the Baltic had been in circumstances not of the happiest, and, in the second, the small size of the 100,000-man army made any rapid advancement extremely unlikely. I was therefore all the more surprised when, in the autumn of 1921, my deeply respected regimental commander, Colonel von Amsberg, asked me if I felt any inclination to go back to General Staff duty. I replied that I did, but for a long time I heard nothing more on the subject. It was not until January 1922 that Lieutenant-Colonel Joachim von Stülpnagel telephoned me from the Truppenamt (the General Staff of the Army) of the Defence Ministry (RWM) in Berlin to ask why I had not yet reported to Munich. I learned from him that I was to be transferred to the Inspectorate of Transport Troops, Motorised Transport Department, since the Inspector, General von Tschischwitz, had requested the assignment of a General Staff officer to his staff. My transfer was to become effective on April 1st, but it was considered advisable for me to acquire some practical knowledge of regimental duty with transport troops before taking up my staff appointment, and I was therefore to be attached at once to the 7th (Bavarian) Motorised Transport Battalion, Munich; I was to leave immediately.

Delighted with my new job, I set off and reported in Munich to the battalion commander, Major Lutz. In the years to come I was to work closely with this officer, for whom I was to have great respect and who was always most helpful and kind in his attitude towards me. I was stationed in Munich and assigned to the 1st Company, which was at that time commanded by Wimmer, an ex-air force officer who was later to fly again. Major Lutz explained to me on arrival that I was eventually to work at the Ministry in connection with the organisation and employment of motorised transport troops. My activities in Munich were to be primarily a preparation for this assignment. Major Lutz and Captain Wimmer did all they could to teach me something about their branch of the service, and I learned a great deal.

On April 1st, 1922, I reported to General von Tschischwitz in Berlin, very keen to receive his instructions concerning my new General Staff duties. He explained that he had originally intended to assign me the employment of motorised transport troops as my field of work. But meanwhile his Chief of Staff, Major Petter, had ordered otherwise: I was to be engaged on the problems of M.T. workshops, fuel depots, constructional work, and technical officials, my duties ultimately to include also road and other communication facilities. I was astonished by this and I informed the general that I was in no way prepared for such primarily technical work and that I did not believe that I had sufficient specialist knowledge of these subjects for employment at the Ministry. General von Tschischwitz replied that he had originally wished to employ me along the lines of which Major Lutz had spoken to me. His Chief of Staff, however, had produced an order of procedure originating from the Royal Prussian War Ministry, dated 1873 and of course amplified by a small pile of amendments and corrections; the Chief of Staff had pointed out that according to this document it was the responsibility of the Chief of Staff and not of the Inspector to decide on the employment of Staff Officers; the Inspector therefore regretted that he was unable to effect any alteration to his Chief of Staff’s instruction; he would, however, do his best to ensure that I participate in the studies that he had planned. I requested that I be returned to my Jäger company: my request was refused.

So there I was, embarked on a technical career in which I must try to find my way about. Apart from a few documents in his pending tray, my predecessor had left nothing worth mentioning behind. My sole support consisted of a number of elderly employees of the Ministry who knew their way about the files, who understood how our business was transacted and who did their best to help me. My work was certainly instructive and what I learned in that office was to be useful to me later on. However, its principal value consisted in a study undertaken by General von Tschischwitz concerning the transport of troops by motorised vehicles. As a result of this study, which had been preceded by a small practical exercise in the Harz, I became for the first time aware of the possibility of employing motorised troops, and I was thus compelled to form my own opinions on this subject. General von Tschischwitz was a highly critical superior; he noticed the slightest mistakes, and he laid great stress on accuracy. Working for him was good training.

During the First World War there had been very many examples of the transport of troops by motorised vehicles. Such troop movements had always taken place behind a more or less static front line; they had never been used directly against the enemy in a war of movement. Germany now was undefended, and it therefore seemed improbable that any new war would start in the form of positional warfare behind fixed fronts. We must rely on mobile defence in case of war. The problem of the transport of motorised troops in mobile warfare soon raised the question of the protection of such transports. This could only be satisfactorily provided by armoured vehicles. I therefore looked for precedents from which I might learn about the experiments that had been made with armoured vehicles. This brought me in touch with Lieutenant Volckheim, who was then engaged in collating information concerning the very limited use of German armoured vehicles, and the incomparably greater employment of enemy tank forces during the war, as a staff study for our little army. He provided me with a certain amount of literature on the subject; though weak in theory it gave me something to go on. The English and French had had far greater experience in this field and had written much more about it. I got hold of their books and I learned.

It was principally the books and articles of the Englishmen, Fuller, Liddell Hart and Martel, that excited my interest and gave me food for thought. These far-sighted soldiers were even then trying to make of the tank something more than just an infantry support weapon. They envisaged it in relationship to the growing motorisation of our age, and thus they became the pioneers of a new type of warfare on the largest scale.

I learned from them the concentration of armour, as employed in the battle of Cambrai. Further, it was Liddell Hart who emphasised the use of armoured forces for long-range strokes, operations against the opposing army’s communications, and also proposed a type of armoured division combining panzer and panzer-infantry units. Deeply impressed by these ideas I tried to develop them in a sense practicable for our own army. So I owe many suggestions of our further development to Captain Liddell Hart.

In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Since nobody else busied himself with this material, I was soon by way of being an expert. A few small articles that I contributed to the Militär-Wochenblatt (‘The Military Weekly’) served to enhance my reputation: its editor, General von Altrock, visited me frequently and encouraged me to write more on the subject. He was a first-class soldier and was anxious that his paper should publish material dealing with contemporary problems.

These activities also brought me the acquaintance of the Austrian, Fritz Heigl, the author of the Taschenbuch der Tanks (‘The Handbook of the Tank’). I was able to supply him with a certain amount of information concerning tactical matters, and I learned to value him as an upright German gentleman.

During the winter of 1923-24 Lieutenant-Colonel von Brauchitsch, who was later to be Commander-in-Chief of the Army, organised manoeuvres to test the possibilities of employing motorised troops in co-operation with aeroplanes: this exercise attracted the attention of the Army Training Department, and resulted in my being proposed as an instructor in tactics and military history. After passing a test, I was sent on a so-called ‘instructor’s tour of duty.’ As part of this tour I was assigned, in the autumn of 1924, to the staff of the 2nd Division at Stettin, now under General von Tschischwitz, who thus became my commanding officer for the second time.

Before going there, however, I had been responsible, under Colonel von Natzmer, Tschischwitz’s successor as Inspector, for a whole series of exercises, both on the ground and on paper, intended to explore the possibilities of the employment of tanks, particularly for reconnaissance duties in connection with cavalry. All we had for these purposes were the ‘armoured troop carriers,’ a clumsy vehicle which the Versailles Treaty had allowed us to keep. It was provided with a four-wheel drive, but owing to its weight it was to all intents and purposes road-bound. I was satisfied with the results of my exercises, and in a closing address I expressed the hope that as a result of our efforts we were on the way to transforming our motorised units from supply troops into combat troops. My inspector, however, held a contrary opinion, and informed me bluntly: To hell with combat! They’re supposed to carry flour!’ And that was that.

So I set off for Stettin in order to instruct the officers destined for future staff work in tactics and military history. My new post entailed a great deal of work; my audiences, too, were highly critical in their attitude, so that the exercises I set them had to be very thoroughly thought out, the solutions most carefully considered, and the lectures I gave clear and thorough. So far as the military history went, I concentrated on Napoleon’s 1806 campaign, a campaign which in Germany at least had never received the attention it deserved, doubtless on account of the painful German defeat in which it culminated; as regards the command of troops in conditions of mobile warfare it is, however, a very instructive campaign. I also dealt with the history of the German and French army cavalry in the autumn of 1914. This thorough study of cavalry tactics in 1914 was to prove very useful to the development of my theories which were becoming ever increasingly preoccupied with the tactical and operational{1} use of movement.

Since I had frequent opportunities to propound my ideas in tactical exercises and war games, my immediate superior, Major Höring, became aware of them and referred to these interests of mine in his report on me. As a result of this I was, after three years as an instructor, transferred back to the War Ministry, where I was assigned to the Transport Department of the Truppenamt under Colonel Halm, later under Lieutenant-Colonels Wäger and Kühne, and which at that time formed part of the Operations Department. My post had been newly created: I was to deal with the subject of troop transportation by lorry. Indeed that was then all we had at our disposal. My studies along these lines soon made plain the difficulties involved in troop movements of this sort. It is true that the French, particularly in the First World War, had achieved great successes in this field-for example at Verdun-but then their problem had been one of movement behind the cover of a more or less static front: in such conditions a division does not need to have all its horse-drawn and mechanised transport immediately available, and notably not its artillery transports. But in mobile warfare, when the whole of a division’s equipment including its artillery horses would have to be loaded on lorries, the number required would be enormous. There were many heated discussions of this problem, and more sceptics than believers in the possibility of finding a workable solution.

***

In the autumn of 1928 I was approached by Colonel Stottmeister, of the M.T. Instructional Staff, with the request that I teach his people something about tank tactics. My superiors approved my undertaking this additional activity. So I returned to my preoccupation with tanks, though still only from the theoretical angle. I was totally lacking in all practical experience of tanks; at that time I had never even seen the inside of one. And now I was supposed to give instruction about them. This required first of all the most careful preparation and a detailed study of the material available. Literature dealing with the last war was by now available in great quantities and in foreign armies considerable subsequent developments had taken place which were already apparent from their service manuals.{2} This made the study of tank theory an easier task than it had been when first I was employed at the War Ministry. So far as practical experience went we had at first to rely on exercises carried out with dummies: originally these had been canvas dummies pushed about by men on foot, but now at least they were motorised dummies of sheet metal. Thus we did manage to have tactical exercises with our dummies, thanks to the willing help of Lieutenant-Colonels Busch and Liese and the IIIrd (Spandau) Battalion of the 9th Infantry Regiment which they successively commanded. It was during these exercises that I made the acquaintance of a man with whom I was later to work very closely, Wenck, who was then Adjutant of IIIrd Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment. We set to work systematically and explored the possibilities of the tank as a unit, of the tank platoon, the tank company and the tank battalion.

Limited though our chances of practical exercises might be, they yet sufficed to give us a gradually clearer appreciation of the prospects of the tank in modern warfare. I was particularly delighted when I was sent to Sweden for four weeks and had the opportunity there to see the latest German tank, the LK II, in action, and even to drive it myself. (The German LK II was manufactured towards the end of World War I, but was not used at the front during the war. The components of this tank were sold to Sweden and formed the first Swedish tank unit in 1918.)

My wife and I went to Sweden by way of Denmark, where we passed a few interesting days in Copenhagen and its lovely surroundings. We were deeply impressed by the beauty of Thorwaldsen’s sculpture. And standing on the terrace at Elsinore we could not but recall Hamlet

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Be that as it may, when we stood on that terrace while the sunshine glittered on the straits and made the old bronze cannons glow green, no ghost appeared.

We went by ship from Motala through the Gota canal and the Swedish lakes. One night we left the ship to visit the beautiful old monastery at Vreta Chyrka. The next day Stockholm lay before us with its beautiful buildings, the Venice of the North, a proud sight.

I was assigned to the Strijdsvagn Battalion, the IInd Battalion of the Gota Guards, and the commander, Colonel Burén, gave me a most friendly welcome. I was to be with the company commanded by Captain Klingspor, an officer with whom I soon struck up a close friendship which was to last until the day of his death. The Swedish officers whom I got to know adopted a frank and amiable attitude towards their German guests. Their hospitality was offered to us as something to be taken for granted. When we were out on exercises we were invited to share their quarters in the friendliest possible way.

I shall always remember with pleasure and gratitude the lovely and instructive time that I was fortunate enough to spend in Sweden.

In this year, 1929, I became convinced that tanks working on their own or in conjunction with infantry could never achieve decisive importance. My historical studies, the exercises carried out in England and our own experiences with mock-ups had persuaded me that tanks would never be able to produce their full effect until the other weapons on whose support they must inevitably rely were brought up to their standard of speed and of cross-country performance. In such a formation of all arms, the tanks must play the primary role, the other weapons being subordinated to the requirements of the armour. It would be wrong to include tanks in infantry divisions: what was needed were armoured divisions which would include all the supporting arms needed to allow the tanks to fight with full effect.

During the summer field exercises without troops of 1929, I based one exercise on the employment of part of one of these imaginary armoured divisions. The exercise was a success, and I was convinced that I was on the right track. But the Inspector of Transport Troops, who was now General Otto von Stülpnagel, forbade the theoretical employment of tanks in units of greater than regimental strength. It was his opinion that Panzer Divisions were a Utopian dream.

***

In the autumn of 1929 the Chief of Staff to the Inspectorate of Motorised Troops, my old friend from Munich days, Colonel Lutz, asked me if I would like to command a motorised battalion. I said I would and on the 1st of February, 1931, I was given the 3rd (Prussian) Motorised Battalion at Berlin-Lankwitz. This battalion consisted of four companies: Nos. 1 and 4 were with the battalion staff at Berlin-Lankwitz, No. 2 was at the military training area Döberitz-Elsgrund, No. 3 was at Neisse. No. 4 Company had been formed from a squadron of the 3rd Horse Transport Battalion. As soon as I had taken up my command, Colonel Lutz helped me to re-equip my unit: No. 1 Company was given armoured reconnaissance cars and No. 4 was equipped with motor-cycles, so that together they provided the nucleus of an Armoured Reconnaissance Battalion. No. 2 Company received dummy tanks, and No. 3 at Neisse was reorganised as an anti-tank company, again with dummy weapons, in this case wooden guns. It is true that No. 1 Company did possess a complement of the old armoured troop-carrying vehicles that the Treaty of Versailles had allowed us to keep, but in order not to wear them out we used dummies on exercises. Only the motor-cycle company had its proper equipment and was armed with machine guns.

With this very improvised unit I now proceeded to concentrate on field exercises. I was delighted at long last to be my own master, even though my command was such a small one. Both officers and other ranks took to their new tasks with enthusiasm, and doubtless these provided welcome relief after the day-by-day monotony of serving as supply troops in the 100,000-man army. My superiors, however, were less encouraging. The Inspector of Transport Troops, indeed, had so little faith in this new unit that he forbade us to carry out combined exercises with other battalions stationed in the area. When the 3rd Division, of which we formed a part, went on manoeuvres, we were not allowed to be employed in units of over platoon strength. An exception in our favour was made, it is true, by the commander of the 3rd Division, General Joachim von Stülpnagel, the same officer who years before had telephoned me about my appointment in Munich. This outstanding general officer was interested in what we were attempting to do and was kindly disposed towards us. He helped us a great deal. His sense of fair play made him insist on just criticism of our efforts after exercises were over. Unfortunately, in the spring of 1931, General von Stülpnagel decided to retire from the Army as a result of a disagreement with the War Ministry.

In that same spring our Inspector, General Otto von Stülpnagel, left us as well. His parting words to me were: ‘You’re too impetuous. Believe me, neither of us will ever see German tanks in operation in our lifetime.’ He was a clever man, but his scepticism was a hindrance to him and stopped him from acting with all the determination of which he was capable. He could recognise problems but could not find the point of departure from which to set about solving them.

He was succeeded by his former Chief of Staff, General Lutz. He too was a clever man with great technical knowledge and brilliant powers of organisation. He recognised the advantages of the new tactical developments for which I was struggling, and he took my side entirely. He made me his Chief of Staff, and in the autumn of 1931 I took up my new appointment. There followed years of hard work and, at times, of considerable stress, but years that were after all to prove highly fruitful. This was the time when our armoured force was brought into existence.

We were quite convinced that the future development of our armoured troops must be directed at making them into an operationally decisive weapon. They must, therefore, be organised in the form of Panzer Divisions and later of Panzer Corps. Now the problem was to persuade the other arms of the service and the Commander-in-Chief of the Army that our way was the correct way. This was difficult since no one then believed that the motorised troops-who were only service troops, after all-were capable of producing new and fruitful ideas in the tactical and even the operational field. The older arms of the service, particularly the infantry and cavalry, regarded themselves as the most important elements of the army. The infantry still considered itself to be ‘the queen of battle.’ Since the 100,000-man army was not allowed to possess tanks, nobody had actually seen these weapons of which we spoke so highly: and when we appeared on manoeuvres with our sheet-metal dummies, these wretched mock-ups struck the old soldiers from the First World War as so utterly ridiculous that they tended to feel sorry for us and were certainly not inclined to take us seriously. The result of all this was that while they were quite prepared to accept tanks as infantry support weapons, they would not agree to the concept of the tank as a new principal arm of the service.

Our main adversary was the Inspectorate of Cavalry. My general enquired of the cavalrymen whether in their future development they envisaged their role as one of reconnaissance troops for other units or whether they were planning to organise as heavy cavalry, prepared to fight battles on its own. The Inspector of Cavalry, General von Hirschberg, replied that heavy cavalry was envisaged. He was willing to hand over the job of operational reconnaissance to the motorised troops. We thereupon decided to train our Panzer Reconnaissance Battalions for this task. Apart from this we were striving for the creation of Panzer Divisions in which to employ our tanks. Finally, we wished to see the establishment of a Motorised Anti-Tank Battalion in every Infantry Division, because we were convinced that in order to be effective against tanks, anti-tank weapons must be capable of equal speed and mobility.

General von Hirschberg, however, was succeeded by General Knochenhauer, who came from the infantry, and this officer proved unwilling to regard as lost the ground which his predecessor had already surrendered to us. Out of the three Cavalry Divisions in the 100,000-man army he built up a Cavalry Corps, and he attempted to make operational reconnaissance once again the responsibility of the cavalry, which would result in his taking over our new invention. With this purpose in mind our young units were to be impregnated by an invasion of cavalry officers. The arguments often became extremely heated. But finally the creators of the fresh ideas won their battle against the reactionaries; the combustion engine defeated the horse; and the cannon, the lance.

Equal in importance to organisation and employment was the problem of the equipment which would enable us to abandon the theoretical for the practical. A certain amount of preparatory work had been done on the technical side. Since 1926 a testing station had been in existence abroad where new German tanks could be tried out.

The Army Ordnance Office had given contracts to various firms for the production of two types of medium and three of light tanks-as they were then classified. Two specimens of each type were produced, so that there was a total of ten tanks in existence. The mediums were armed with a 75 mm., the light tanks with a 37 mm. gun. These specimens were not built of armour plate but of mild steel. The maximum speed of all these types was approximately 12 miles per hour.

The officer responsible for this production, Captain Pirner, had taken pains to include a number of modern requirements in the new models, including gas-proofing, a good engine-efficiency rate, an all-round field of fire both for the turret gun and for the machine-guns, a sufficiently high ground-clearance, and excellent manoeuvrability. He had to a great extent succeeded in achieving all this. On the other hand one great disadvantage was that the tank commander had to sit in the body of the tank, next to the driver, whence he had of course no field of vision whatever towards the rear and that towards the sides was partially blocked by the forward ends of the tracks and further limited by his low position in relationship to the ground. Wireless equipment was not yet available. So although tank construction in the ‘twenties was marked by great technical improvements over the tanks built during the First World War, it was still inadequate to fill the tactical requirements of the tanks to be employed in the new role which we had envisaged for them. It was not possible simply to order the mass-production of the experimental models then available. The construction of new models was essential.

Our opinion then was that for the eventual equipment of Panzer Divisions we would need two types of tank: a light tank with an armour-piercing gun and two machine-guns, one in the turret and the other in the body: and a medium tank with a large calibre gun, and two machine-guns as before. The light tanks would equip the three light companies of the tank battalion: the medium tanks would enable the medium company of the battalion to perform its dual role of, first, supporting the light tanks in action, and, secondly, of shooting at targets out of range of the light tanks’ smaller calibre guns. We had differences of opinion on the subject of gun calibre with the Chief of the Ordnance Office and with the Inspector of Artillery. Both these gentlemen were of the opinion that a 37 mm. gun would suffice for the light tanks, while I was anxious that they be equipped with a 50 mm. weapon since this would give them the advantage over the heavier armour plate which we expected soon to see incorporated in the construction of foreign tanks. Since, however, the infantry was already being equipped with 37 mm. anti-tank guns, and since for reasons of productive simplicity it was not considered desirable to produce more than one type of light anti-tank gun and shell, General Lutz and I had to give in. A gun of 75 mm. calibre was agreed on for the mediums. The total weight of this tank was not to exceed 24 tons. The limiting factor here was the carrying capacity of the German road bridges. The speed requirement was settled at 25 m.p.h. The crew of each type of tank was to consist of five men; the gunner, loader and tank commander in the turret (the commander to sit above the gunner and to be provided with a special small command turret with all-round field of vision), the driver and wireless operator in the body of the tank. The crew would receive their orders by means of larynx microphones. Facilities for wireless communication from tank to tank that would function while the tanks were in motion were to be installed. A comparison of these constructional demands with previous requirements as exemplified by the tank models then in existence will show the changes necessitated by the newly envisaged tactical and operational role that tanks were to play.

When we drew up these long-range plans we were well aware that years must pass before our new tanks would be ready for action. In the meantime we had to build a training tank. The Carden-Loyd chassis, which we purchased in England, was suited to this purpose; it was actually intended as a carrier for a 20 mm. anti-aircraft gun. It was true that nothing larger than machine-guns could be mounted in any turret that this vehicle could carry. But with this disadvantage, it could be made ready for action by 1934 and it would at least serve as a training tank until our real combat tanks began to appear. So the supply of this item of equipment, which was designated the Panzer 1, was ordered. Nobody in 1932 could have guessed that one day we should have to go into action with this little training tank.

Production difficulties of the main types of tank which we had ordered dragged on longer than we had originally hoped. In consequence General Lutz decided on a second stop-gap: this was the Panzer II, equipped with a 20 mm. gun and one machine-gun, and manufactured by the MAN company.

***

During the summer of 1932 General Lutz for the first time organised exercises involving both reinforced infantry regiments and tank battalions-the latter, of course, equipped with dummies-at the training areas of Grafenwöhr and Jüterbog. For the first time since the signing of the Treaty of Versailles there appeared at that year’s manoeuvres German armoured reconnaissance cars built, according to our specifications, of steel armour plate mounted on the chassis of a six-wheel lorry. School children, accustomed to stick their pencils through the canvas walls of our dummies in order to have a look at the inside, were disappointed this time; so, too, were the infantrymen who usually defended themselves against our ‘tanks’ with sticks and stones and who now found themselves ruled out of action by the despised panzers. Even the bayonet was proved to be an ineffective weapon against armoured fighting vehicles.

During these manoeuvres the possibility of operations by armoured and motorised units was put to the test. There was considerable unobjective criticism on the part of the cavalry, but our success was so obvious that not much notice was taken of this petulance. Indeed many of the more wideawake and younger cavalry officers began to show keen interest in this new development; and numbers of them came over to our side-realising that in our day and age the true and tried principles of cavalry warfare were only still valid if the cavalry were equipped with new weapons and methods.

The 1932 manoeuvres were the last at which the aged Field-Marshal von Hindenburg was present. During the critical discussion after they were over he made a short speech, and I was amazed at the clarity with which the old gentleman pointed out the mistakes that had been made. Mentioning the leadership of the Cavalry Corps, the old gentleman had this to say: ‘In war only what is simple can succeed. I visited the staff of the Cavalry Corps. What I saw there was not simple.’ He was quite right.

In 1933 Hitler became Chancellor and both the external and internal politics of the Reich were entirely changed. I saw and heard Hitler for the first time at the opening of the Berlin Automobile Exhibition, at the beginning of February. It was unusual for the Chancellor himself to open the exhibition. And what he had to say was in striking contrast to the customary speeches of Ministers and Chancellors on such occasions. He announced the abolition of the tax on cars and spoke of the new national roads that were to be built and of the Volkswagen, the cheap ‘People’s Car,’ that was to be mass-produced.

The appointment of General von Blomberg as War Minister and of General von Reichenau as Chief of the Ministerial Office (Chef des Ministeramtes) was to have an immediate effect on my work. Both these generals favoured modern ideas, and so I now found considerable sympathy for the ideas of the armoured force, at least at the highest levels of the Wehrmacht (the Armed Forces). In addition, it soon became apparent that Hitler himself was interested in the problem of motorisation and armour. The first proof I had of this was at Kummersdorf, where a meeting was held under the aegis of the Army Ordnance Office to demonstrate recent weapon development: I was allotted half an hour in which to show the Chancellor the position as far as motorised troops were concerned. I was able to demonstrate a motor-cycle platoon, an anti-tank platoon, a platoon of Panzer I’s in the experimental form of the time, and one platoon of light and one of heavy armoured reconnaissance cars. Hitler was much impressed by the speed and precision of movement of our units, and said repeatedly: ‘That’s what I need! That’s what I want to have!’ As a result of this demonstration I was convinced that the head of the government would approve my proposals for the organisation of an up-to-date Wehrmacht, if only I could manage to lay my views before him. The rigidity of procedure in our army, and the opposition of the persons in authority over me-the General Staff Officers who stood between Blomberg and me-were the principal obstacle to this plan.

Incidentally, it is an interesting sidelight on German politics since 1890 that Prince Bismarck was the last Chancellor who had shown sufficient interest in the development of military equipment to pay a visit to Kummersdorf; from then, until this visit of Hitler’s, no Chancellor had ever taken the trouble to set foot inside the place. The visitors’ book of the Army Ordnance Office proved this when the Head of that Office, General Becker, asked Hitler for his signature. This surely makes it plain that German policy had not been ‘militaristic.’

On the 21st of March, 1933, the Reichstag was opened with a religious service in the Garrison Church at Potsdam.

The state ceremony in the Garrison Church was followed, on the 23rd of March, 1933, by the notorious Authorisation Act, which was passed with the approval of the ‘National Front’ and the Central Party and which gave the new Chancellor full dictatorial powers. With laudable courage the Social-Democrat Party voted against this bill; few politicians realised at the time what misfortunes the Act was to cause in years to come. The politicians who voted for the Authorisation Act cannot escape the responsibility for what was later to happen.

***

In the summer of 1933 the head of the National-Socialist Motor Corps, Adolf Hühnlein, invited me to a festive meeting of the leaders of his organisation at which Adolf Hitler had promised to be present. I thought that it might be interesting to see Hitler among his faithful followers. Since Hühnlein was also a decent, upright man with whom it was easy to work, I accepted. Hitler made a speech dealing with the history of revolutions; the speaker showed considerable knowledge of history, and in a speech lasting for several hours he demonstrated how any revolution must, after a certain time and when it has achieved its aims, become a process of evolution. That point in its history had now been reached by the National-Socialist revolution. He urged his followers to bear this thought in mind for the future. It was only to be hoped and prayed that these indications of his would be fulfilled.

***

An armoured force was now in process of being created, and the year 1933 was one of considerable progress. A series of experimental and training exercises with dummy tanks did much to clarify the relationship between various weapons and served to strengthen me in my convictions that tanks would only be able to play their full part within the framework of a modern army when they were treated as that army’s principal weapon and were supplied with fully motorised supporting arms.

If the tactical developments were not unsatisfactory, the equipment side was by contrast all the more worrying. One of the results of our disarmament after the Versailles Treaty was that for many years our industry had produced no war materials; consequently it lacked not only the skilled labour but also the very machines with which to turn our intentions into facts. In particular the production of a sufficiently tough armour plating proved very difficult. The first sheets delivered splintered like glass. It similarly took a considerable time before our requirements in the wireless and optical field-which, it must be admitted, were technically very advanced-could be filled. However, I have never regretted my insistence at that time on our tanks being equipped with first-class visual and command facilities. So far as the latter is concerned, we were at all times superior to our enemies and this was to compensate for many other subsequent inferiorities that necessarily arose.

In the autumn of 1933 General Freiherr von Fritsch became Commander-in-Chief of the Army (Chef der Heeresleitung). In him the army had at its head a soldier in whom the officer corps had complete confidence. His was a fine, chivalrous nature, and he was a clever, careful soldier with sound tactical and operational views. He had not a great deal of technical knowledge, but he was always ready to try out new ideas without prejudice and, if they seemed to him good, to adopt them. As a result of this my official dealings with him concerning the development of the armoured force were easier and more agreeable than with any of the other members of the Army High Command. As head of the 1st Department of the Truppenamt in the 100,000-man army he had already been interested in the questions of motorisation and of armour, and had devoted a period of detached service to the study of the Panzer Division. In the high office which he now filled he continued to show the same interest in our doings. The following little incident is typical of the way he used to do things. I had laid some technical question before him concerning tank development. He seemed doubtful, and he said to me: ‘You should realise that all technicians are liars.’ I replied: ‘I admit they do tell lies, but their lies are generally found out after a year or two when their technical ideas can’t be put into concrete shape. Tacticians tell lies too, but in their case the lies only become evident after the next war has been lost and by then it’s too late to do anything about it.’ Fritsch, as was his custom, twisted his monocle in his fingers before replying: ‘You may be right.’ Though he was extremely reserved and even shy at large gatherings, when he was among friends whom he trusted he proved himself to be openhearted and affable. He was possessed of a fine wit when he wished to use it and of a most attractively charming manner.

A more difficult personality was that of the new Chief of the General Staff, General Beck. His was an upright character, a calm, almost too calm, and thoughtful man of the old school, a disciple of Moltke; it was Beck’s intention to form a General Staff for the new army of the Third Reich of which Moltke would have approved. He had no understanding for modern technical matters. Since he inevitably chose men with much of his own attitude to fill the more important General Staff posts, and even more so